


Addicted To You

by SomethingWithSteve



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bottom Steve Rogers, Crime Fighting, Dirty Talk, Fist Fights, I Blame Tumblr, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-04-14 03:12:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4548072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingWithSteve/pseuds/SomethingWithSteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There were only two reason his phone would ring. Either it was a booty call from Natasha (which didn’t happen often, but it did happen) or it was Sam with a job. And considering the light streaming in through the curtains of the ramshackle bedroom of his apartment, it was a little late in the day to be expecting the former."</p>
<p>Or</p>
<p>Steve Rogers is a bounty hunter with a conscience. When Sam Wilson gets a job involving a charismatic thief known as the Winter Soldier, Steve is all too happy to jump on the train to busting the guy and collecting the bounty. But the job quickly becomes more than it seems...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I was meaning to write more cutesy shit for the Language, Steve thing I have going, but then I got distracted and Tumblr happened. BASICALLY, I FOUND THIS POST: http://justsavethelastdance.tumblr.com/post/126389226303/brendaonao3-babbleon-someone-should-write-a  
> AND I HAD TO WRITE A THING.
> 
> So I did. And it's terrible. And I'm sorry. And the tags are a mess and I'll probably add more later.
> 
> This chapter is... short. Shorter than I would have liked. They'll get longer, I promise. I just wanted to set shit up without taking forever to get through everything. Hopefully I'll update this weekly. Or sooner. Depending on time constraints with school and the like. I have no fucking idea how long this will last, but I have a rough idea of how I want it to play out? For once, there's more plot than porn.
> 
> But oh there will be porn. Lots of porn. Because I'm a horrible person who can't resist a ship.
> 
> As always with me, the title comes from the song of the same name. Because I'm lame and can't be creative with titles to save my life.

He woke to his phone ringing.

There were only two reason his phone would ring. Either it was a booty call from Natasha (which didn’t happen often, but it _did_ happen) or it was Sam with a job. And considering the light streaming in through the curtains of the ramshackle bedroom of his apartment, it was a little late in the day to be expecting the former. Groaning softly, Steve rolled over on the mattress, groping blindly for his phone. It took him three tries, but his fingers finally closed around the device one ring before it went to voicemail. He didn’t always partner up with Sam, but he knew if he missed the first call, Sam would go off and hog the bounty on his own, and Steve _really_ needed the cash right now.

Flipping the phone open, he pressed the speaker to his ear and mumbled, “You know I’m not fully awake till at _least_ after noon.” A bluff on his part; normally, he was up at the crack of dawn, but after how wasted he’d been last night, it was a miracle he was even up now.

“I think you can get your ass up for half a mil.”

_Jesus_. Steve’s eyes snapped open, staring at the horrible print on the walls as the words circled through his mind again. _Half a million?_ What fucking job had Sam landed this time? As if the man could read his mind, he spoke again, “That’s _after_ we split it, Steve. The usual meeting place. I’ll buy lunch. Or brunch, if you do that sort of thing.”

Like hell he was going to be late for this.

Fifteen minutes later, Steve pulled up to the diner at the edge of town, blond hair windswept and clothing rumpled as he hopped off his bike. Honestly, he’d just thrown on whatever was closest and grabbed sunglasses before bolting out the door – and of fucking course Sam was there in their usual booth, looking fucking impeccable in a damn vest and tie as usual. The asshole had probably been up for hours, even after everything he’d had to drink last night, and as Steve slid into the seat across from him, he didn’t miss the smirk tugging up the man’s lips.

“Rough night there, Rogers?”

“Unless that has something to do with the job, kindly fuck off,” Steve snapped back, peering at him over his sunglasses before snatching the mug of coffee already waiting for him. Sam might screw around with him, but at least he knew him better than most. He might not be as morally inclined as Steve, but he was ex-military too, and he had enough respect to work around Steve’s rigid moral compass when they did work together. That was something he could respect.

He could also respect the fact that the guy knew how to get a job done.

“Alright sunshine,” Sam chuckled, shaking his head as he settled to eating the brunch platter he’d ordered. “I got a call from Pierce.”

Steve was groaning the moment the man’s name passed Sam’s lips. “You know I don’t work for criminals.” And yes, it was true that Pierce himself wasn’t _technically_ a criminal (he was damn good at keeping his hands clean), but he was the head of one of the largest drug cartels in the Southwest. If there was someone pawning drugs from California to Texas, it had probably come from Pierce’s industry.

But that explained the monetary amount. If Alexander Pierce was behind the job, it made sense that it’d pay well. The guy was beyond loaded.

“I know. But Steve, trust me on this. The job’s legit. A week or so back, some punk came in, busted up one of his operations. Stole a hell of a lot of drugs, then went and shot the joint up that the deal was going down in real bad. Killed a lot of people, too. Law enforcement’s on his ass, but Pierce wants the job done _right._ He’s paying a million for the guy’s head, and if we catch him and bring him back _alive_ …” Sam trailed off, shaking his head as he slid a blank manila folder across the table. “Steve, he _really_ wants this guy. And the file he gave me… The kid’s bad news. It falls into your range, man. And I could really use the backup.”

The unspoken fact that _Steve_ needed this job too hung in the air between them. It’d been a good long while since he’d taken a job, and he was running low on money. He hated that Sam was pitying him, but was now really the time to get stubborn? Clenching his jaw, he flipped open the file, skimming the contents quickly. And goddammit, if he didn’t immediately recognize the little fucker. It was the self-proclaimed “Winter Soldier” of all people. Steve’s eyes narrowed as he huffed; of course Sam would pick the job with this little shit. He’d never officially met the kid, but he’d messed up more than one of Steve’s jobs with his crap. He had a rap for being devilishly handsome and even more charming, and while Steve didn’t have enough evidence to argue with the former, he’d gotten nothing but grief at the Soldier’s hand. Oh, the opportunity to bust his ass once and for all was just too good to pass up.

Something didn’t sit right with Steve about the whole thing, but there was nothing that stood out to him in the file. He could see Sam eyeing him critically, but was now really the time to turn down a job based on a gut feeling?

He _really_ needed this.

Shutting the folder, Steve slid it back across the table before crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m gonna guess you already have a lead.”

Sam’s smile was blinding. “Always a pleasure to work with you, Cap.”

~*~*~

As it turned out, Sam’s “lead” turned into days of driving, following a trail with enough dead ends to convince others to stop. It was a good thing that they were both obnoxiously stubborn, otherwise Steve was sure they would have quit too. And _damn_ was this kid good. Never using the same name, never checking into the same place, never getting picked up on camera… The nagging sensation that there was something else going on here was growing stronger; what sort of thief was capable of this?

After yet another dead end, Sam had voted that they stop for the night. This was the last town for miles till Vegas, and the idea of driving straight through to then have to deal with overpriced motels? No, he was fine with Sam’s suggestion. The motel was honestly a piece of shit, and Steve couldn’t help but grimace as he peered into his room. What he wouldn’t give for a night on sheets that were probably cleaner than these… Exhaling forcefully, he closed the door behind him, deadbolting it before pulling out his handgun and doing a quick search of the room. Honestly, it was unnecessary, but there had been more than one time that he’d been jumped while on a job.

Nobody’d ever said being a bounty hunter was _easy_.

Once he was certain the room was clean, Steve made a beeline for the showers. Hours on the back of a motorcycle in the blistering Nevada heat made a guy appreciate being clean. At least the water pressure in this joint was good, and he couldn’t help the breathy sound that escaped him as the water pounded against his skin. Oh he’d needed this. The pathetic water pressure in his building was never enough for him to really feel clean, but this? This more than made up for the shit he’d been through over the last week.

He was so engrossed in scrubbing a week’s worth of grime off his skin that he didn’t register the soft click until a few seconds had passed. It was after he had rinsed the suds from his hair and opened his eyes that he noticed an odd silhouette off to the side of the curtain. He froze in place, trying to remember where he’d put his gun. Hadn’t it been-

“Leaving a gun on the commode kinda seems paranoid if you ask me.” The voice was velvety smooth, and Steve couldn’t help but swear profusely in his head. _Son of a bitch!_ How the fuck had someone gotten in here? Gritting his teeth, he stayed in place, mind racing for a solution. All he had was a towel and a bar of soap – and he was a soldier, not fucking MacGyver.

Another click – the hammer on the gun being pulled back, he realized – preceded the voice. “Turn the water off and get out of the shower. Hands were I can see ‘em, too.”

This time, the faint curse slipped past his lips as he reached over, turning off the water before pulling the curtain back. The sight he was met with was… unexpected to say the least. The guy holding his gun was attractive, to say the least: dark brown hair swept back in that “I woke up this morning and ran my fingers through my hair and it stuck because I’m fucking perfect” way, eyes so fucking blue it was like looking into the sky on a really clear day, and a freshly shaven face but with just enough stubble to give him a rugged sort of look. Steve would be lying if he said the dude wasn’t his type.

The guy quirked an eyebrow, blue eyes flicking up and down briefly – and the asshole _had_ to be dragging his bottom lip through his teeth on purpose. Clearing his throat, Steve shifted uncomfortably, resolutely trying to think of _anything_ besides the fact that he was apparently being checked out by a hot stranger in his bathroom. “Can I at least get my towel?”

“Maybe,” the man spoke again – and fuck, he _was_ doing it on purpose because look at that smug-ass grin! Steve scowled darkly, ignoring the laughter sparkling in the other man’s eyes, but apparently the guy seemed to get the memo. Tilting his head to the side, he kept the muzzle of the gun trained on Steve’s chest, lips pursing briefly before he slowly continued, “How about a trade, hm? I’ll let you put on pants if you tell me why you’ve been tailing me for the past week.”

_... Son of a **bitch**._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an intruder in Steve's bathroom. Needless to say, he's not happy with this development.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY REMEMBER HOW I SAID I WAS GOING TO UPDATE THIS WEEKLY
> 
> NEITHER DO I
> 
> Apologies for a dialogue-heavy chapter. I promise that the plot/smut is coming soon. Ish? I don't have a specific timeline.

_Son of a **bitch**._

The fucker was here. In his room. Holding his gun. If he hadn’t been so goddamn annoyed at himself, Steve would have been impressed. The guy had _skill_ , and he’d known it. The people who knew about the thief called him a ghost, and for good reason. He’d slipped out of all sorts of traps, even a couple that Steve himself had orchestrated. Still, he’d had never met someone who couldn’t be caught, and he’d found himself doubting the guy’s skill. Clearly he’d gotten out based on sheer dumb luck or something.

He’d severely underestimated this asshole.

The Winter Soldier just stared back at him, an eyebrow arched as he waited for an answer to his question. And Steve, stubborn as ever, wasn’t going to just spill his beans at the first sign of danger. He’d never given in before, and he wasn’t about to now. Not when the stakes were so high, and the person he was looking for was _right fucking here._ Pressing his lips together tightly and clenching his jaw, he stared the man down before deadpanning, “I think you know why.”

The thief rolled his eyes, head tipping back slightly as he groaned, and _jesus_ , how could the guy make something so obnoxious look attractive? “Contrary to popular belief, I _don’t_ always know why there’s people chasing me. I’ve pissed off a lot of people in my time, pal, and while I normally don’t mind having guys ride my ass, this is the case where I take issue.”

Steve blinked slowly before cautiously asking, “Are you _always_ this crude?”

The man just smirked back, and there was something about that look that screamed _danger_. “Generally. Now answer the damn question. Why are you following me?”

He had a choice. He could answer, and most likely get shot and killed, or he could at least save himself some dignity and die with pants on _and_ his reputation intact. It was a gamble, but one that he was willing to take. Without a word, he turned, stalking out into the motel room and to his bag.  

The sounds of protest were a clear sign that his gamble had paid off. “Hey! I didn’t say you could leave-“

“Either you’re gonna shoot me, or you’re gonna milk me for information and _then_ shoot me. Either way I’m dead, so why the fuck does it matter if I listen to you?” Grabbing a pair of boxers and jeans, Steve ignored the feeling of eyes boring into his back as he tugged the pants on, quickly scanning the room to see a possible point of entry. The curtains were fluttering softly; the fucker had come in through the _window._ _How the fuck-_

“Well now that you’ve saved your dignity, how about answering that question? And don’t bother looking for a weapon; I cleaned out the room.”

Steve’s shoulders were stiff as he turned, glaring daggers at the thief. God this guy was annoying. He was suddenly glad he’d never met him before. He was pretty sure he’d have tried to kill him on principle alone, and that was saying something. The man seemed to notice the stare, if the almost unperceivable flinch was anything to go off of. He almost looked… twitchy. _Scared._

Steve could use that.

“And I never said I was going to shoot you,” the Soldier added on after a moment, frowning as if he was _offended_ by the thought. Steve couldn’t help himself. He laughed – a deep, booming laugh that had the thief hissing unhappily and gripping the gun tighter. “ _What?_ ”

“That’s rich, coming from the guy who killed half a dozen civilians in Waco.”

The Soldier froze at that, eyes narrowing as he cursed softly in what sounded like Russian under his breath. “Pierce,” he hissed finally, and even thought Steve was careful to keep his face neutral, apparently he’d done _something_ to tip the guy off, because the next moment, he was sneering as he shook his head. “Fucking figures. You’re a goddamn idiot if you trust him.”

“I don’t. I also don’t trust murderers.”

The Soldier scoffed. “Then what the hell does that make you?”

Fuck, he had a point. Steve tried his damndest not to take jobs that involved killing people, but even he’d sunk that low after a while. “A bounty hunter,” he finally answered, tone clipped. “I only kill people who deserve it.”

“And who says Pierce isn’t lying out his ass? Who says I deserve to die?”

Another good point. They hadn’t seen any footage of the crime scene; they were just taking Pierce’s word on the whole affair. When he took too long to respond, the man strode across the room, coming to a halt right in front of Steve and meeting his gaze. “Pierce is lying to you. He set me up. There’s more to this than he’s telling you.”

“And why the hell should I trust you over him?” Steve’s tone was clipped, testy, but who could blame him?

Apparently not this guy. He just offered a wan smile, head tilting as he surveyed Steve with a scrutiny that had his skin prickling with discomfort. The expression looked almost sad, and something about that bugged the hell out of the bounty hunter. “I think you’ll make the right choice, Cap.”

The nickname made him freeze in place. The only people who called him that were Sam and Nat, and only Sam knew the story behind it. He opened his mouth to ask how the hell _he_ knew that, but the thief was already slipping past him and flopping on _his_ bed.

Steve’s jaw twitched and a vein pulsed in his neck, but he somehow kept enough composure to keep from completely losing it. “This isn’t your room. Get off my bed.”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” the Soldier replied cheerfully, the gun still trained on his chest as he lounged across the mattress. “See, I have something I need to do. Unfortunately, I can’t do it by myself or I’ll get caught.”

“Yeah, _such_ a pity.”

“Pipe down, punk.” Steve’s nose wrinkled at that, but he actually fell silent. He didn’t want to admit it, but he _was_ kind of curious. That and the guy still had his gun, so did he really have a choice, did he? “As I was saying, I can’t go in on my own. So that’s where you and your boyfriend come in.”

Oh, he couldn’t help but stiffen at that. Nevermind the boyfriend comment – because admittedly, he and Sam _had_ been a thing once – but there was no way in hell that he was going to put _Sam_ at this guy’s mercy too. “And if I say no?”

The Winter Soldier’s eyes glittered as he stared up at Steve, not quite smiling but very obviously amused by the situation at hand. “You won’t.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I know you better than you think.” The amusement dropped away as the man sat up, leaning forward ever so slightly as he stared up at Steve, and even though Steve was a good foot over him right now, he still felt tiny when pinned by that gaze. “I know you’re ex-military. Probably an honorable discharge, judging by the fact that your pal over there calls you Cap and you don’t freak about it. I know that you took up bounty hunting five years ago, and in that time you’ve gotten enough of a reputation that you could be up to your eyes in sweet cashy money, but you aren’t. You only take jobs that fall on your weird moral spectrum, and I’m assuming that means no-kill missions, which don’t pay nearly as well. I know you’re strapped for cash too, otherwise you wouldn’t have come after me at all. And I know that you don’t trust Pierce any further than you can throw him – and for good reason, because he’s a lying, skeevy bastard who pins his shit on people that don’t deserve it.”

It was strange, being analyzed like that, but aside from the last oddly personal bit, it was all _true_. Steve couldn’t help the roll of discomfort that swept through him at just how much this guy had dug up on him. He wasn’t exactly the most sociable guy; he was kind of married to his job and it showed in the fact that he could count the number of friends he had on one hand. He was a private sort of guy, so how the hell had some random stranger gotten ahold of this crap?

He wasn’t going to _admit_ that, of course. But he’d waited too long to respond, and an awkward tension had settled between them. Steve’s jaw clenched briefly before he puffed out a soft breath, running his fingers back through his hair as – in a moment of pettiness – he shot back, “I don’t even know your name.”

It wasn’t outright agreeing to anything, but the beaming smile that spread over the brunette’s face made it seem like he had. The guy looked years younger with a smile, and he finally lowered the gun as he drawled, “I don’t give out my name as casually as you do, Cap. Just call me Bucky.”

“Bucky.” What the _fuck_ kind of name was that? “Right. Whatever. Are you gonna tell me what this job is, or are you one of those people that keeps everyone in the dark and fucks ‘em over later on down the line?”

“Aw Stevie-”

“ _Don’t_ call me that.”

Bucky paused, eyeing Steve carefully before shrugging and continuing on as if the blond _hadn’t_ violently interjected. “-have a little faith, will ya? I’ll tell you more when it’s essential to know more. Haven’t you ever heard of plausible deniability?”

That didn’t bode well. Or rather, it didn’t bode well for _Bucky_. Whatever he was doing, he clearly didn’t think it would end well, but why the hell would he care if other people got caught up in it? He hadn’t cared in Waco – unless the guy was telling the truth, and Pierce _was_ trying to set him up. But if that was the case, why not just say as much?

The whole thing was just making his head hurt, and Steve scrubbed at his face before grabbing his duffel bag and digging inside for a shirt. He wasn’t going to continue this conversation half-dressed –

“Well don’t cover up on _my_ account. I was enjoying the view.”

He paused. He couldn’t help it. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Shooting Bucky a nasty look – and trying to ignore the creeping flush that was trickling down his cheeks and neck because yes, he was just now starting to process that this guy had seen him nude – he savagely tugged a shirt on over his head. Fuck this job. It was becoming more of a hassle than he’d signed up for. “You’re not here for the view, you’re here for help. You don’t get both.”

“Pity.” And… oh. He actually sounded _disappointed_. “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, y’know. But if you _insist_ on being so straight-laced about this, fine. We can talk business after I get a bit of shut eye in.”

The look Steve shot the thief was one of disbelief. “You’re going to sleep in the same room as the guy hired to take you out?”

Bucky’s smile was wry as he shook his head. “Like I said, Cap, I know you better than you think. You won’t turn me in. Not until you know the truth, because otherwise it’ll eat you up inside.” And with that, the thief sagged back onto the bed, making a show of yawning and stretching before curling on his side.

And goddammit if he wasn’t right on the money.

**Author's Note:**

> I Tumbl sometimes: http://justsavethelastdance.tumblr.com
> 
> Feel free to pester me with suggestions/ideas? God knows I need 'em.


End file.
